The Brazen Tales: Runna's Shoe
by Sushi-san85
Summary: The year is 1373 DR. Icewind Dale is threatened by sinister powers. A group of adventurers sets out from Silverymoon and gets tangled up in the troubles. From the Reghed tribes come a woman and her son. Will they survive long enough to uncover the truth, or fall prey to the first goblin they come across? Contains fan characters. Canon characters make appearances.
1. Chapter 1: On the Run

**Chapter 1: On the Run**

**Summary:** The year is 1373 DR. Icewind Dale is threatened by sinister powers. A group of adventurers sets out from Silverymoon and gets tangled up in the troubles. From the Reghed tribes come a woman and her son. Will they survive long enough to uncover the truth, or fall prey to the first goblin they come across? Contains fan characters. Canon characters make appearances.

**Disclaimer:** I own the story, Iriaga and the NPCs you don't recognise from official, published lore. The other fan characters are owned by my friends, including BatPhace here on the site. The others can be found on deviantArt.

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Travel was always easier up north during summer. Auril's power was gone; the best the goddess of winter could do being a gust of cold wind every now and then. The sky was covered in clouds, but they were high enough so the woman could see where they were going. A cough sounded from Leolamin, but other than that and a few signs of a fever, the ten-year old was fine.

Under normal circumstances they wouldn't even be on the road. Xeras didn't wear her usual travelling cloak; in fact, they travelled as lightly as they could. Not even a pony had been available upon such short notice. All Xeras and Leolamin had were their clothes, the two-handed sword on Xeras' hip and Leolamin's daggers. Xeras couldn't cook, and she didn't dare bring what her sickly mother had made. Unlike most of her tribesfolk she knew that disease often spread through the food, and seeing as her son was already struck with a fever, she thought it best to avoid it.

Xeras wasn't helpless, of course. If push came to shove, she could hunt and forage, and knew enough of the wilderness to pick the right plants. She wasn't suicidal, nor did she in any way mean to endanger her child. Quite the contrary.

"How long until we get there?" Leolamin asked as they neared the Western Pass at the foot of the Spine of the World mountains. They'd put many miles behind them, despite his condition. During summer, the Western Pass saw much traffic from Luskan and other places trading with the people of Ten-Towns. Xeras' best bet was to come across one of these caravans on their way back, and hitch a ride. Ten-Towns was too close to _him_.

"Once we're on a wagon headed for Mirabar, it will be only one day," she promised, "tops." The boy didn't reply, but he was by her side next, picking up his pace. "There's no need to rush so much. We've put a good distance between ourselves and the tribe already."

"One never knows with Leif," he said pessimistically, "he might have men lying in wait, ready to ambush us."

Xeras didn't respond, as always impressed with the level of insight the boy would sometimes display. In her family, the wisdom was said to skip the boys and grace the girls, so that the boys would be strong in body only. It was a paradox, then, for Xeras to be the strong warrior and her son the wise one.

"I could trade for some weapons from the caravan," she offered, "so you'll have something more than daggers."

He sniffed. "I think I'd prefer books. I want to learn how to read and write." Xeras hesitated just slightly before taking another step.

"If you can learn to put up with your great-aunt's punches, she might even teach you," she said dryly.

"Really?" Leolamin's voice piped up, full of hope. It seemed he was still deaf to sarcasm.

"Sure," she said half-heartedly, and the boy picked up his step. Her feet moved faster as well, as she wanted to keep her son as close to her as possible.

Despite the increase in their pace, they didn't reach the Western Pass until twilight. The sight that met them was that of a pillaged and broken caravan and half-eaten corpses strewn about. Even the bodies of children had been left to rot. While not terribly religious, Xeras still sent a quick prayer to Tempus for the souls of the caravan guards and another to Kelemvor, to go easy on any child that had yet to find a patron deity.

"Orcs," Leolamin concluded as he walked amidst the carnage, as much at home as he was in the family's tent, "only they eat the bodies of the slain. It wasn't our tribesmen."

"No," Xeras agreed, proud of her son for being able to keep his cool and remain analytical, "and they were thorough, too. No weapons, no food, no coins, nothing is left." She stopped at one of the corpses, dressed bare before being feasted upon, and judging from his build and the scars on what skin remained, she concluded it was one of the guards. "Not even the armour these men died in." There was one thing that bothered her, however. "It's strange for orcs to leave behind a feast, especially if they had time to undress their food before eating."

As if on cue, one of the wagons burst into tiny splinters and out of the debris came a huge orc, two-handed axe in hand. Leolamin, standing only a few feet away, yelped and rushed over to his mother. Moss and other greenery was pushed aside, however, and more orcs poured out on the scene, smaller than the first one but armed to the teeth and just as fierce. Xeras grabbed her son's hand and made for the only opening there was, only to be cut off by an orc with a sword similar to hers. She pushed Leolamin behind her and drew her own weapon, pointing it at them and circling, waiting for the first one to attack. So that was it, then; it was an ambush to lure in unsuspecting people.

In truth, she was utterly terrified. Despite her skills she wasn't mentally cut out for fighting. The only thing that kept her from running away was her son and the fact that he wouldn't be able to keep up with her. A knot formed in her stomach and her legs trembled. She didn't like her chances at all.

The orcs stood still, waiting. Xeras and Leolamin kept circling, waiting for the first attack. She didn't know the reason for their hesitation, though she guessed it was because she was armed. Or, as a more frightening thought dictated: they were still full.

After gauging the pair for a while, one of the orcs must have decided that Leolamin was the minor threat as he advanced upon him just as his back was turned. Xeras' sixth sense kicked in, however, and she spun around, blocking his axe and, with a twist of her sword, sent the weapon flying. Using her momentum and an upward swing, she successfully cleaved the orc's head from his body.

Another orc saw his chance to advance from the opposite side, but Leolamin flipped out a dagger and threw it, aiming to hit the creature in the throat. His dagger struck true and the orc went down. Two more orcs advanced from that side, but Xeras blocked the sword of one and her son killed the other. This created an opening, and after the woman cut a deep wound into her opponent's leg, thereby effectively rendering him helpless, the pair ran for it. One orc tried to intercept them, but Xeras was faster, ducking his blow and stabbing him in the stomach. Another orc, this one wielding a bow, pulled an arrow out of his quiver, but Leolamin spotted it and threw his last dagger at him, the blade sinking deep into the orc's throat.

They ran as fast as their legs could carry them, but the orcs were faster. Leolamin jumped on the back of one in order to help his mother escape, but was knocked down with the blunt end of the orc's spear. The orc raised his weapon, meaning to kill the boy, but Xeras was upon him, her sword sticking into his back and her face alight with sheer fury. At this point, the boy knew to lay very still, because he recognised that expression and knew all too well what it meant. The battle rage was upon her.

What strength Xeras had displayed before was nothing compared to her current state. Three orcs advanced on her and she cut them down with methodical swipes, as if she was out picking berries. One managed to create a cut across her arm and make her bleed, but it did nothing to slow her down. Only two more orcs remained; the big one and another archer.

The big orc, as well-versed in the battle rage as Xeras, engaged her directly. Sword and axe clashed, glares were exchanged and the woman stood her ground. The orc archer stared in shock and bewilderment for a few seconds, apparently not having expected the human woman to match his leader in strength, before raising his bow and aiming.

Leolamin was at a loss. His mother was terrifying enough during her rage, and that was good reason to lie still, but if he didn't do anything about the archer, there was a very real chance he would have no mother to fear anymore. He was out of daggers, but that wasn't going to deter him. Fully prepared for the possibility that they would both die, but determined to fight all the same, the ten-year old grabbed the nearest rock he could find and threw it at the archer.

His aim failed him, however, as the orc leaned back the last second, making the rock sizzle by. Leolamin picked up another rock, this time hitting the orc's hand and making the arrow sizzle right past his mother's ear. The orc archer turned on him next, drawing his sword and approaching him steadily. Leolamin threw two more rocks in rapid succession, the first missing and the other hitting the orc in the middle of his brow. There was a moment's fumbling from the orc and then he fell to the ground. Leolamin meant to aim for the large orc next, but his armour was thicker and covered more of his body. Rocks would have little effect, and the large helmet covering his head didn't exactly help matters. Xeras held her ground against the large orc, but just as she was getting close to winning, more orcs came to the scene, weapons raised. Two approached the boy, and he threw his rocks at them, hitting them in the brow and knocking them out. His victory was short-lived, however, as large hands grabbed him and pulled him up. He struggled for a short breath only to go completely still when he felt cold steel press against his throat.

"Cease your struggling, humans," shouted the orc holding him, and when those words drew Xeras' attention, the fire went out of her eyes and was replaced with despair. The orc leader took this moment to hit the back of her legs with his axe, sending her crashing into the ground. Leolamin cried out. "Silence!" Boomed the orc. The boy's words died on his lips, but a tear travelled down his cheek. The orc leader turned around and regarded the boy before looking back at the woman.

"I have an idea," he said and when he turned back to the other orcs, it was with a vicious grin that made Leolamin's skin crawl, "shaman!" One elderly orc adorned in a necklace of teeth and holding a staff stepped forward. "Bring forth your pet. Tell her a meal awaits." Eager, vicious grins were shared between the other orcs, but the shaman didn't move.

"You make a poor meal," the spellcaster said after sizing the orc leader up and down. The grins died away. "Unless you're hiding something behind that massive body of yours, I doubt she'll be interested." Understanding came to the orc leader's face and he nodded at the orc holding Leolamin. The shaman frowned. "Not a lot of meat on that one." Smiling, the orc leader stepped aside to reveal the woman lying on the ground. The shaman's eyes widened and then he grinned, too. "I will get her. You fools get out of the way, or she'll eat you too!"

The orcs obeyed eagerly, as all of them knew what the shaman's pet was capable of. Leolamin was unceremoniously dumped on the ground next to his mother, who pushed herself up on wobbly legs. The aftermath of her powerful rage was, sadly, a heavy case of fatigue that left her drained.

"I will explain the rules," the orc chieftain said as he sat down on a tree stump to watch the fight that was to come. Only the boy looked at him, but he, too, knew how a battle rage worked, and wasn't bothered. "If your son dies, you, woman, will become my slave. If you die, woman, your son will become target practice for my archers. I would say 'try not to die', but..." laughter spread among the orcs, "you've got no chance no matter how you look at this. Unless those rocks your son is holding are enchanted." More laughter sounded. "But I doubt it."

Xeras pushed herself up until she could stand, supporting herself with her sword. She grabbed Leolamin and pushed him back, her strength still able to overwhelm him even when she was in this state.

"Mother," he objected, but the look she gave him was enough to silence his protests. His eyes began to water and a lump formed in his throat. A growl sounded; a noise he'd heard only once in his life before. His eyes went to the shaman and then a large, white-furred creature arrived on giant paws, one of which would be enough to crush the skull of a grown man. Large, sharp teeth protruded from its mouth and it stared at both him and Xeras hungrily. He felt his heart sink, knowing now they had no way out of this. His mother had been set to fight a polar bear. The animal seemed to hesitate a little, but then two orcs appeared on either side of the shaman, holding a cage each, containing two polar bear cubs.

Despite her injuries and fatigue, Xeras kept a hand on her sword. The bear sniffed the air, observed the woman for just a few seconds and then went in for a lunge. Xeras' sword stayed in the ground, but the woman herself jumped out of the way. Instead of following her, however, the bear went straight for the smaller prey in Leolamin. Xeras was quicker, grabbing the hilt of her sword and using it as leverage to land a kick with both legs against the side of the bear's head. The beast lost momentum and crash-landed into the ground. It was only a temporary setback for the bear, however, as it pushed itself back up. Xeras had strained her already injured arm with that kick and could no longer use it. To her credit, though, the bear had some trouble orienting itself. Leolamin crawled a bit away from the animal when it wasn't looking. For two breaths it stood still, and then it advanced on Xeras once more.

The sword was left untouched, and the woman did her best to wrestle the bear, using her powerful legs and only good arm to get a good hold. She was fighting a losing battle, even the boy could tell that much. The bear managed to shake her off and moved towards him again, but Xeras grabbed onto its stub of a tail and yanked. A pained roar sounded from the animal and it kicked the woman off before turning around, mouth wide open and ready for the kill.

Leolamin's eyes grew wide and sheer rage bubbled up inside him. Gone were any tears or fearful trembling and he threw his rock straight at the bear's head. It hit true and drew the bear's attention to him. He tossed the next rock, as hard as he could, and it hit the bear on the brow. The bear growled unhappily and went cross-eyed. It tried taking some steps towards the boy, but then collapsed on the ground.

Shock and disbelief came to the faces of all the orcs gathered, especially the leader who rose from his seat, his mouth wide open and his eyes even wider. The boy could easily guess that this was the first time anyone had beaten the mighty polar bear, and that it was no small feat to do so. He moved over to his mother, grabbing her good arm and urging her to get up. Even if they'd beaten the bear, there was still a large number of orcs left, including their shaman. Xeras managed to get up with his help, but the orc leader was already fast approaching, weapon in hand.

"That bear was the pride of our tribe," he snarled, but instead of raising his axe towards the woman, he stopped in front of the unconscious bear. Leolamin gaped. Not even the cruelest men of his own tribe would kill a member, whether animal or human, just for losing a fight. "Useless! The only comfort I'll have is that the hide will decorate my tent, along with your skin and your mother's face." The orc raised his axe, but the next second he had an arrow sticking out of his throat. His hands spasmed and the weapon fell out of his hands, landing harmlessly behind him. He went down just as another arrow sizzled past him and hit one of his archers in the same way.

"_Yer_ face'll be the only thing servin' as decoration," yelled a deep, female voice. A short, stocky figure descended upon the orcs, steel flashing and yelps and hollers of pain sounding from the monsters as they met their demise. Leolamin could just barely make out a helmet on the figure, and then she came into full view, revealing a fully-armed and armoured dwarf, swinging her axe left and right. It had to be a she, judging from the voice, but the beard made it hard to tell.

One of the orc archers raised his bow and aimed at the dwarf, but a rock hit him square in the face and sent him down. Leolamin's eyes went in the direction of where the rock came from, but all he could see were some green bushes. The archer's identity was revealed, however, as a figure both taller and more slender than the dwarf stepped forward, bow in hand and arrow notched and ready to fly at the first target. It was the first elf Leolamin had ever laid eyes upon and, despite his tribe's teachings about how vile they were, he couldn't tear his eyes away. Her black hair and dark skin contrasted heavily against the pale dwarf, and the grace with which she moved was unlike anything Leolamin had ever seen.

Seeing both a dwarf and an elf was enough to set the orcs off into a frenzy and they charged the pair in full. While both of them were strangers to the boy, he let out a cry of despair that he didn't quite understand. The dwarf didn't seem the least bit bothered, however, using her shield to bash one of the orcs in the knee, making him fall down, and then planting her axe in his skull before moving on to the next opponent. The elf let loose arrows at a deadly pace, even using her bow as a weapon and striking an orc in the face. Then there was the mystery person that occasionally knocked out an orc with a rock.

Leolamin wasn't about to be worse than a bunch of strangers and threw some rocks of his own. Large hands grabbed him, however, and he looked up to see the orc leader, still with the arrow in his throat, glaring down at him. He didn't speak, but the nasty-looking dagger in his hand spoke volumes. Leolamin twisted in his grip and tried kicking him in the shin, but the large orc didn't even flinch, his grip of iron impossible to escape.

A shadow covered the orc leader and a low, animalistic growl rang in their ears. The orc hesitated, and then two large, whites paw descended on his head and ripped it from the body. It flew through the air, crashed into the ground and rolled around a bit before finally lying still. Leolamin, now free of the orc's grasp, looked at the body before his feet and the polar bear that went back down on its front paws, examining him closely. Something in its eyes had changed, though he couldn't fathom what it was. Then the bear turned around and walked over to a pair of polar bear cubs, trying their best to roar but failing due to the fact that they were still small. Not far from them stood a tall, blue-skinned woman with two cages on either side of her, opened. If Leolamin had thought the elf a peculiar sight, he was completely stumped now.

An orc's yell pulled the boy out of his daze, and he saw the shaman, with a large gash across his chest, pull himself up and mutter some words and point at the blue-skinned woman. Whatever spell he'd hoped to cast, however, was quickly interrupted when another elf landed on top of him, fire shooting from her hands and burning his skull. The boy stared in a mix of fear and awe, concluding that this elf had to be a wizard of sorts, even though her clothes seemed more like a skimpy night gown rather than a wizard's robe.

His mother was now on her feet, walking towards her sword. The blue-skinned woman ran forth, a scimitar in hand, and engaged the orcs from the rear, the scantily dressed elf woman backing her up with throwing daggers. It was a fierce and even battle, until Xeras swung her sword around in her good hand as if it was a small dagger, and casually approached the group. "Fatigue's gone," she said with a victorious smile. One orc noticed and broke rank, bumping into another one who watched him flee and then turned around to see the deadly warrior woman coming closer. He, too, fled, only to be taken down by one of the elf's arrows. The rest of the monsters lost their courage, especially when Xeras let out a battle cry and decapitated the opponent closest to her. They fled along with the first fellow, the group of strangers standing their ground, seemingly content to let their enemies run off.

Once the monsters were gone, there was a pregnant pause where everyone regarded each other. Leolamin, glad his mother was still alive, sighed in relief and ran over to her, embracing her waist tightly as his tears began to fall. He tried to speak, but his words turned into odd noises due to the stupid lump in his throat. Xeras' hand touched his shoulder, and he stepped back so his mother could get back down on her knees. Then she embraced him tightly with her good arm.

The strangers were quiet during their embrace, though the blue-skinned woman approached them at one point with bandages in her hands. Xeras let her remove the animal skins and clothes underneath to address her wound. It wasn't as bad as Leolamin had first thought, much to his relief.

"Not to sound ungrateful," Xeras began, "but who are you people?"

"Loranys Carter," said the blue one, "water genasi and druid of Istishia."

"What's a water genasi?" Leolamin piped up.

Loranys smiled. "My mother is from another world, one tied to the element water. Others are connected to earth, fire or air."

"My name is Xeras," the warrior cut in before a storm of questions poured out from the boy, "and this is my son Leolamin."

The dwarf stepped up to them, fishing out a handkerchief to wipe her bloodied axe with. "Runna Chertfist, of Citadel Adbar. Warrior of profession and orc hater by choice." She and Xeras shared a nod of understanding.

"Corria," said the elf with a bow, "of the Wealdath, far to the south. Ranger and hunter." Xeras looked a bit uncomfortable, but shared a nod with her all the same.

The spell-wielding elf from earlier appeared next, albeit with a short, human-like male in hand, held up by his collar and dangling a few feet off the ground. "I'm Iriaga Serpenthelm, sorceress of the wilds." She smiled and turned her gaze to the male, her smile suddenly looking very creepy.

"I can't hide from you, can I?" The small male huffed, his arms crossed.

"Not for long," she shot back, still smiling.

"I'll have to work on that," he concluded with a nod before turning his attention to the two humans. "My name is Thoven Cupshigh, from Luiren. My speciality is the more... subtle art."

"He's a thief," Iriaga clarified helpfully, making Xeras' gaze harden and Thoven's skin pale visibly. "Not to worry, he uses his skills for the protection of all good folk."

"You were the one launching rocks at the orcs," Leolamin said before his mother could get up and hurt the poor fellow, the boy having noticed the sling on the halfling's belt.

Thoven nodded. "You did a fairly good job of throwing rocks yourself, though, and from a halfling, that's quite a compliment." Leolamin beamed, a smile Thoven returned, and a quiet understanding passed between them that the others didn't catch on to. The elf named Iriaga seemed pleased, though, and put the halfling down, much to his relief. He shot her a glare before turning his attention back to the others.

"What brings you all here?" Xeras asked as Loranys helped her put her outfit back on. Upon hearing this question, everyone looked at the dwarf. Corria and Thoven, especially, looked rather unhappy.

Runna cleared her throat. "We're looking fer me shoe."


	2. Chapter 2: The Coming Darkness

**Chapter 2: The Coming Darkness**

* * *

"Silvita." Xeras said to Runna as the wagon rounded the corner, the woman pulling on the reins at just the right time to keep the horse on track. "My aunt's name is Silvita." Not long after the dwarf's admission about her missing shoe, the conversation had turned to Xeras and her son. Despite their best attempts to keep their business private, the blue woman had recognised Leolamin's symptoms as that of a disease that could prove deadly if left untreated. The dwarf's attention had turned on the two humans in full, and while Xeras kept some things private, she admitted that they were heading for Mirabar. Genuine concern had shone through on the strangers' faces and they'd offered to escort them.

Normally, Xeras wouldn't accept such help. She'd always managed on her own, and just because they'd helped her against the orcs didn't mean they were friends. Xeras preferred to play it safe, and this group might attract more trouble than they were worth. It wasn't until Leolamin fainted from the combination of his illness and the earlier excitement that she realised she had no other choice.

The halfling had found the least battered wagon and, with the dwarf's help, began repairing it. A horse was spotted by the elf and, with some persuasion from her and the druid, was convinced to pull the wagon for them. It took half a day, with Xeras and Loranys working on treating the boy. The only one who didn't do anything was the flame-haired elf, looking like a fish out of water. Xeras had thought she could at least cast some protective spells on the area, but she did nothing. The barbarian grew ever more convinced that mages were useless.

Once the wagon was repaired, everyone got in save for Xeras and Runna, who took the driver's seat. The dwarf displayed an overall distaste for the horse, and kept her distance, but didn't mind sitting next to the human as she drove. They'd been quiet, at first, but then Runna started talking about herself a bit, a simple introduction, only to get an annoyed response from the elf. An argument broke out between them, but the words and tone were not as harsh or loud as when the men of her tribe fought. It was more like play, and it reminded Xeras of her aunt, something that slipped out past her lips before she could stop herself.

"Be she the one ye seek in Mirabar?" Runna leaned back to pick something up from the wagon. It was a small, brown bag containing nuts. She took three for herself before offering it up to Xeras. The woman declined.

"I mean to leave Leolamin with her," Xeras explained, "while I go back and get my parents."

The dwarf looked thoughtful for a minute, but instead of commenting, merely nodded. "We be headin' in the same direction. None of us know the dale, so we could really use a guide. Would ye be willing to help us? We'll join ye in getting yer parents back, of course."

"To look for your shoe?" Xeras countered, genuinely curious. Travellers to Icewind Dale came for many different reasons, but never for something so trivial.

"It's important," the dwarf said with a slightly grumpy look, "and I can pay ye well, if that's what ye mean."

Xeras shook her head. "Payment is all fine, but I don't have that much time to spare. I need to get to my parents before-"

"I think you misunderstand," said a voice from behind them, and the redheaded elf from before leaned in closer to them. Xeras felt more than a little uncomfortable having a magic-user this close to her, but it wasn't like she could jump off the wagon and run, so she stayed put. "We will help you escort your parents to Mirabar, and in return, you help guide us."

The human's eyes grew wide. "That's very generous of you, but how will you know I won't just take my payment and leave after my parents are in Mirabar?"

A smile graced Iriaga's lips. "Because you won't get paid until we've found the shoe, of course."

"What if I discard the payment and flat out refuse?" Xeras countered.

This time it was Runna's turn to speak. "Ye'll be saying no to a sum that could help ye and yer son in what I'm guessing is yer new life."

Xeras opened her mouth to object, but Iriaga cut her short. "I recognise a fellow refugee when I see one." She rested her head on her hand. The barbarian fought back the urge to glare at her, not liking how easily she'd been seen through. "Not many mothers would have their children travel while they're ill, unless whatever threatens them is a hundred times worse than a disease."

Xeras snapped. "Are you telling me how to look after my own child?"

Iriaga raised her hands defensively. "I wouldn't dream of it. Quite the contrary, the only impression you've given me is that you care so much for your child you'd fight a polar bear to protect him." Her gaze softened and a sad look appeared in her eyes for just a split second. "It's a trait I wish my own mother possessed."

A silence passed between them, and Xeras' earlier anger disappeared. She looked away from both females for a few seconds before turning back to face them. "The truth is, we are fleeing. From a terrible man who's taken over leadership of the tribe. He wants us to conquer all of Icewind Dale through military might. It's a fool's quest, and we all know it. He even tried to recruit my son, but I wouldn't allow it."

"Do you worry that he'll track you down again if you help us?" The mage asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

Xeras shook her head. "I worry that he will unleash his suicidal plan and that I will get caught up in it."

"He can't be reasoned with?" Runna asked.

A sad laugh escaped Xeras' lips. "Maybe if my husband was alive, he could have. But no, wiser and more diplomatic people have tried and failed. He won't even listen to his own family. Ever since I spoke up against him, he's become more hostile to people who challenge him."

"So, get your family out of there while you can?" Iriaga concluded, to which Xeras nodded. "I support you in this, for what it's worth. Not sure what you want to do now, though?" The last words were spoken to Runna, who wore a thoughtful look on her face.

"Me quest be very important fer me family," she began, crossing her arms as she mulled it over, "and if'n I get it done, we could lose everything we have."

"I understa-," Xeras began, but was quickly interrupted.

"But if I let yer family die without trying ta save 'em," the dwarf continued, "they'll never forgive me. After we drop yer boy off, we'll go get yer parents. And if there be a tribe leader in need of getting some sense knocked into his head, I'll help ye with that, too."

A small smile grew on Xeras' lips. She was miles away from seeing these people as friends, but it felt good to have someone on her side all the same.

* * *

Deep within the Spine of the World mountains, west of the newly established orc kingdom of Many-Arrows and hidden away in a lush valley stood the remnants of the Seldarine's Hand. Once a great fortress and bastion of racial peace and cooperation between elves and dwarves, it had been corrupted by twin half-fiends and later destroyed in their battle with a party of adventurers. Only one of the hand's "fingers" remained, known later on as Orrick's Tower. Orrick the Grey, an archmage of unknown origin, had long since passed, but his magical secrets were well-guarded. An order of surprisingly peaceful and powerful goblin sorcerers had taken up residence there, to make sure it remained that way.

They were suspicious of her and refused to grant her entry. Even with her disguise as an unassuming, travelling scholar named Brie Buttercup, they refused to let her peruse Orrick's library. She bit back a particularly nasty retort at the goblins standing guard; regular, average ones that she could have easily killed in the blink of an eye. That would ruin her mission and make her employer most upset with her. Brie knew better than to upset a powerful dragon.

"I have tomes and other, valuable lore to offer up in exchange," she offered, but the goblin sorcerer standing just a few feet behind the guards shook his head.

"This isn't Candlekeep," he said in perfect Common, "some knowledge must be protected and kept from being misused, by Mystra's decree."

"But I have no intention of harming the Weave," Brie countered, well-versed in religious lore as well as arcane, "and as I recall, that's truly the only thing the goddess of magic seeks to protect."

"By that reasoning, yes," the goblin agreed, "but we follow also the teachings of Orrick and Weenog, first goblin apprentice to the Grey. Protect the valley and the mountains and let none inside the tower."

"Surely there must be exceptions," she argued, "or where else do you get your food?"

"We hunt," was the simple reply, "forage and store for the winter. Now you will go." The goblin finished his speech by tapping his staff against the ground and disappearing.

Brie felt a headache coming on from having dealt with such simple logic, but didn't want to contest the wrath of the magical power the sorcerers could unleash, goblins though they were. She took her leave, going to the Fields of Slaughter where orcs and elves had once engaged each other in a great battle, and found a spot in the shadows to call home. It wasn't too far away, but still not close enough to raise an alarm. Her employer's magic protected her from scrying magic, so if the goblins thought they could keep an eye on her with their spells, they'd be sorely disappointed.

Still, even with such protections as well as her skills at stealth, infiltrating the tower seemed an impossible task. The "finger's" position allowed the goblins a high vantage point and full view of the entire valley and Orrick's magic prevented teleportation. While the guards up front were mainly for show, there was no telling how many goblins lived inside. The little critters were mostly just a nuisance, but in large numbers they possessed a genuine threat.

A scraping sound against bare rock caught her attention and put her on guard. Her hand went to her weapon and she eyed her surroundings suspiciously. Thin fingers grasped against the rock on which she stood, followed up by a dog-like head with two small horns. Yellow eyes stared up at her and the kobold jumped up on the rock with a grace she had yet to see in these creatures. Brie lunged, daggers leading, only to be caught by incredibly powerful arms and pinned to the ground. The kobold jumped on top of her, transforming mid-air into a human female not all too different from herself. Brie's eyes grew wide and the daggers fell out of her hands as she beheld her own sister. Then she frowned.

"You fool," she hissed as she wriggled to get free, "what if someone saw that?"

"Carolina" merely smiled. "Oh, my poor Brie, always the careful one." She released her from her grip even as she said this, and ran a hand through her short hair. Deciding it was too short, she shook her head and mentally ordered it to grow a little longer. "I might not be under the magical protection of a dragon, but I still have my ways. Speaking of which, I take it from your _exceedingly_ good mood that your mission failed?" The last words were spoken with just a dash of sarcasm.

A wry smile went to Brie's face. "It went very well, actually."

Carolina raised a curious eyebrow. "You got a good look at one of the sorcerers?"

"He came to speak to me in person," Brie countered.

Carolina's smile grew to match her sister's. "Sloppy. Very sloppy."

"I trust you've done your part."

"I found a section of the tower's walls that creates a blind spot," Carolina began as she picked out a roll of parchment, unrolled it and placed it between them, "here." She pointed at a spot right below a rocky ledge that connected to the tower. "It's a tight spot, so I recommend a small form in order to manouver and a creature with long, sharp claws for the lock. Although the place is mainly inhabited by goblins, there's an ogre guard behind the locked door. You will have to find a way to deal with him."

Brie felt her heart sink. She hated having to fight ogres in small rooms. It was bound to get noisy.

"Other than that, all you need is a believable goblin form," Carolina went on, "and as for the password, it was a pentagram, starting on the bottom left. You need to touch each rune in order to activate them, and it only responds to the sorcerers' touch, so make sure you've got your disguise ready when you're there."

"Anything else?" Brie mentally counted all her weapons and tricks, an unnecessary act but one she did out of old habit all the same.

"Be a good sister and bluff well," Carolina concluded with a smile, "and try not to get crushed by the ogre or Orrick's magic. At least not without bringing the necessary lore to your employer. I would hate to think what happens should he find out you not only died, but failed him too."

"Thanks for the reminder," Brie said dryly before getting up and taking in her surroundings. "I don't suppose you have a way for me to move to that location without being spotted?"

"Didn't your boss provide you with something?"

Brie shook her head. "Only protection from scrying magic, not invisibility."

An overly dramatic sigh escaped Carolina's lips, though her face held every bit of amusement. "Again you need the aid of your big sister. Whatever would you do without me?" A smirk grew on her lips. Brie glared at her, making the smirk grow wider, but Carolina picked a small cloth bag out of her pocket all the same. "A bit of magical dust. A pinch of it is enough to make you invisible for a good ten minutes, but no more." She handed the bag over. "I need to get going, too. My own employer is a lot less flexible with appointments than yours."

"That's their nature, though," Brie pointed out, "always so concerned with rules."

"I'm not getting into another debate with you over order and chaos," Carolina said with a frown, earning a smile from Brie, "especially since you don't care either way." She put a ruby ring on her finger, the gem flashing red once, and then she was gone.

"Spoilsport," Brie muttered with a pout, feeling just a tad bit jealous of her sibling's magical prowess. A gust of wind struck her, making her shiver. The North really was her least favourite place in Faerûn, with its absurdly cold temperatures and unpredictable weather even during summer. She spied down on the tower, patiently waiting for the guard change. Around twilight it came, just as the last light of the sun disappeared across the horizon. Her chance now arrived, Brie changed her shape, used the magical dust and quietly stepped into the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3: First Signs

**Chapter 3: First Signs**

* * *

Everything seemed perfectly normal. The herb garden was quite impressive, especially under the bright light of the sun, and the woman standing amidst it had aged quite gracefully. Her quiet demeanour as she approached the group and the friendly smile on her face gave nothing away. Iriaga felt inclined to step up and greet her, but Xeras' words about standing back still rang in her mind, so she did her best to reign in that impulse.

Good thing she did, too. The second Xeras and her aunt stood close enough to each other, the older woman landed a punch to the barbarian's face that sent her flying. The half-nymph's face fell as she watched the two-hundred-and-thirty pound warrior crash into the ground, a feat the sorceress thought impossible, save perhaps to the dwarf in their party.

If Xeras was even remotely bothered by this, however, she didn't show it, getting back up on her feet and stepping up to her aunt. Iriaga thought she would try to calm the woman down, but instead she punched her right back. It was the older woman's turn to fly now, and fly she did. She landed in a bush, coughing up some leaves as she got back up again before walking back to where Xeras stood. The women exchanged a glare and then grinned.

"Your strength has improved," Silvita exclaimed and gave her niece a pat on the shoulder, "good, good. And I see you brought your son." She nodded in direction of Leolamin, who had regained much of his strength. "Is he to test my fist too? He seems a bit young for that."

"Oh, Tempus, no!" Xeras shook her head, a tooth flying out of her mouth as she did so. "I need you to look after him while I go back to the tribe to get my parents."

Silvita's gaze darkened. "Nothing but certain death will convince my sister to leave her home. What happened?" Xeras opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. "Right." Silvita nodded at the others. "Do they know?"

"In part," the berserker confessed.

Sizing the group up, Silvita paused only temporarily to give Iriaga a disapproving look. The redhead blinked, confused as to what she'd done to cause offense. Silvita turned her attention back to Xeras before she could ask. "Let me get Leolamin inside, and then you will explain the entire situation to us. If these people have decided to travel with you, they deserve to know." She motioned for the boy to follow her and he obeyed, the woman returning shortly after and bringing the group with her to an area of standing stones. Iriaga could practically taste the magic in the air as she stepped inside the circle, the sensation giving her goosebumps. Silvita bid them sit on the grass or the few, smaller rocks available. Then she found her own spot and stood. All eyes then went to Xeras.

"Leif's father recently passed away," Xeras began, "and now he's taken over leadership."

Silvita groaned. "Let me guess, he's got it in his thick head to conquer the dale?" Xeras merely nodded. "Well, that's just plain suicidal. No wonder you left. But why bring Leolamin? He'd be too young to join in battle and my sister would gladly keep him safe."

"Leif didn't seem to think so," Xeras shot back dryly, "in fact, he was quite happy to recruit him."

A frown came to Silvita's face. "That's uncharacteristically foolish, even for Leif. How much difference did he think a boy at ten would make?"

Xeras shrugged. "He said something about him being the key to the tribe's victory." The barbarian seemed at a genuine loss, but her aunt's face paled. Alarm came instantly to Xeras' face. "What? What's wrong?"

It was Silvita's turn to look alarmed. "My sister never told you?"

"Obviously," the barbarian said dryly, "now quit stalling and tell me!"

Regaining her composure, Silvita shook her head. "No, she must be the one to tell you. For now, you should focus on getting her and your father to safety." Xeras' eyes darkened, but Silvita's expression didn't change. "Know that your son is safe here, and not even Leif would dare pick a fight with me." A grin came to her face, and while Xeras didn't share it, her expression softened somewhat. "Now, then, for introductions. I tend to get a little carried away and forget my manners sometimes." She turned first to the dwarf.

"Runna Chertfist," the dwarf began, "of Citadel Adbar. Daughter of Baldrin Chertfist and Jaimi Thundershield."

Silvita looked surprised. "Jaimi Thundershield, the giant-killer?"

"Ye know me ma?" Runna matched Silvita's surprise perfectly.

"Know her?" Silvita smiled. "I used to travel with her. Even fight with her, and against her, though the latter was only once and I never did it again." Her smile turned sheepish.

"Aye, I know what ye mean," Runna said with a serious nod. A silent understanding passed between them and they regarded each other with mutual sympathy. The rest of the party just stared in wide-eyed silence, unsure if they should break off the moment, and if they did, how badly would Silvita punish them?

It was Iriaga who interrupted them, albeit with a sweet laugh. Both warriors looked in her direction, Silvita with more annoyance than Runna. "It seems you've made a friend." Runna blushed, muttering something about how no dwarf made a friend that easily, though she said she didn't mind Silvita as much as she did other humans.

"I would ask for your name so I would know who would so boldly interrupt a moment of bonding," Silvita said to the redhead with a surprising amount of coldness, "but mages never survive for long in the wilds, especially someone dressed like you." Iriaga's smile died down and an uncomfortable silence settled in the area.

"I don't understand," the sorceress began, smiling faintly, "I've survived in the wilds wearing much less."

Loranys placed a hand on her arm, but the sorceress was far from finished.

"In fact, I grew up there," she added. Her hands began to tremble.

Silvita snorted. "All evidence to the contrary."

"What evidence?" Pressed Iriaga, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "You don't know the first thing about me, so who are you to make such conclusions?"

Rolling her eyes, Silvita merely waved her off. "You wouldn't understand."

Iriaga rose to her feet, mouth opening for a comeback, but Xeras beat her to it.

"Iriaga Serpenthelm," she said, "and she helped me with the orcs, aunt Silvita. Whatever else she may be, she helped save mine and Leolamin's lives."

A frown came to Silvita's face, but she didn't contest Xeras' words. Iriaga's green-eyed stare was most intense, and the air was thick with expectation. Loranys was the one to break it and defuse an emotional bomb from going off.

"Iriaga might seem irresponsible at times," she began, earning a glare from the redhead, "and even a bit lazy, but know that she always comes through when you really need her to. I've travelled with her the longest and seen the most of her, so I can well claim to know her the best."

"Your name is?" Silvita demanded.

"Loranys Carter," the genasi replied, "druid of the sea, now come to land to learn its ways."

"Then you were the one to cure Leolamin," the barbarian concluded, "and for that you have my thanks. However, I know from experience what mages are like outside city walls."

"And I know from experience what Iriaga is like outside city walls," Loranys countered with a friendly smile, and while Silvita didn't look convinced, she caught onto the meaning in the words and didn't push things further. Pleased, the genasi turned to the sorceress, who looked a lot more calm.

Silvita turned to the remaining strangers. "Your names?" Her eyes settled on the halfling.

"Thoven Cupshigh," he replied, fearlessly and without hesitation, "inventor and entreprenur from Luiren."

"You're far from home," Silvita observed before looking at the elf, "and you are...?"

"Corria," the elf began, "and if you have a problem with mages, you will eventually have a problem with me, too." Silvita raised a curious eyebrow. "I fully intend to combine my archery skills with arcane magic one day, and follow a prestigious tradition of my people."

Silvita smiled. "It seems my clumsy way of speaking has landed yet more misunderstandings. I have a problem with a very specific type of mages, the kind that can't tell the difference between the back and front of a badger and think they can survive on their magic alone." Her smile died down as her gaze moved to Iriaga. "When I saw your travelling companion here, I automatically assumed she was of that type. Not that I have yet to be proven otherwise, but it was wrong of me to jump to conclusions."

Corria nodded. "Fair enough." Iriaga didn't speak.

"People may say what they will about me," Silvita went on in a much more cheerful tone, "but let it not be said that I'm inhospitable. Come, the journey from Icewind Dale is far from a short one, and I don't even know how far the rest of you have travelled. No, Xeras, you need rest if you are to help your parents properly. War doesn't happen over night, and no matter how foolish Leif is, even he knows better than to start anything right now." There were some mutterings, but the awkward way in which the travellers moved proved Silvita right. She urged them inside, reminding Xeras that she'd better stay out of the kitchen, or she'd receive a severe punishment. The group moved back towards the house, and as soon as the door closed, Silvita put on a simple, golden ring and activated its mysterious power.

* * *

In another part of the Spine of the World mountains, situated in a rather reclusive nook to the east of Orrick's tower, was a hamlet resting against the mountainside. On the outside it looked like a simple nest of homes, quite unassuming and ordinary. Inside these huts of straw, mud and stone, however, resided an order of powerful, female spellcasters known as the volvas. Seers, sorceresses and shamans, these women of Illuskan descent, coming from many different social and sub-ethnic backgrounds, had gathered for the sake of mutual survival and to revive an ancient practice that got banned with the coming of Uthgar; seidr.

It was a type of magic developed by the descendants of Netheril, begun as a project shortly before its fall, mixing their sorcery with the divine favour from a goddess in the human pantheon. The inheritors of this magic didn't have to be specifically human, so long as they possessed some drops of Illuskan blood, allowing half-human students as well. The volvas happily taught their ways to both men and women, provided they deemed them responsible enough to handle the power. However, only women could join the volva ranks.

One of the founders of this order, Skadi, was out hunting when she saw smoke rising from Orrick's tower. The volvas and the goblins enjoyed a fairly peaceful neighbour relationship, and it was mainly thanks to Orrick and his sorcerers that they'd been able to revive their old magic. They would sometimes trade food and magical lore with each other, but also had a silent agreement never to trespass on each other's territories.

Saga, also known as the Oracle among their ranks, had foreseen that when smoke rose from Orrick's tower, it would mean destruction upon the North. Skadi was a practical woman, but even she knew better than to ignore the Oracle's predictions. Besides, judging from the sheer amount of smoke, she doubted the goblins were just cooking.

Her current travelling companion, Ywan, a half-elven warrior from Silverymoon as ruggedly shaped by the harsh weather as any Northerner, stepped up next to her and followed her gaze. His green eyes narrowed as they settled on the smoke, but he didn't say anything, seemingly content to observe in silence.

The top of the tower was covered in smoke, goblin sorcerers and guardsmen alike rushing out at the bottom. A very large figure came out next, clutching its head. Skadi recognised it to be an ogre, one she'd saved the life of just two tendays ago, and who had taken up residence with the goblins. Britta had been fleeing from bounty hunters over a disagreement regarding a dead sheep, and while such trivial matters were of little concern to the volva, she disliked how unnecessarily violent the hunters were, and had distracted them with a few, simple tricks. As it turned out, the sheep had been lost and Britta was hungry, and that was all there was to the story. Clearly not worth getting violent and brutal bounty hunters over. Skadi had healed the worst of Britta's wounds, and she learned that the ogre was actually looking for a place to stay after a falling-out with a couple of other ogres. The volva had introduced her to the goblins and the rest was history.

"I didn't realise your friend's culinary experiments could produce such results," Ywan remarked.

Skadi shook her head. "Britta's cooking is excellent, even someone as picky as you would eat what she makes."

His face scrunched up in disgust. It was no secret how he felt about an ogre's cooking habits. "I doubt it."

"Despite your prejudice, though, an explosion of this size would not be caused by her," Skadi reasoned. "She very much wanted a new home, and was adjusting quite well. The last thing she'd do would be to blow it up."

"Could be one of the sorcerers pissed her off," Ywan shot back.

The frost genasi shook her head adamantly. "No, they welcomed her, and the few times I've met her since she seemed genuinely happy."

"A happy ogre makes me worry," the half-elf stated with a pout, "especially where goblin sorcerers and powerful, magical legacies are concerned."

Skadi bit back a sigh. "Ywan, you are positively difficult, even at the best of times."

"I love you too," he quipped. A short silence followed as he looked at her expectantly. She gave him a curious look. "You're not going down there to check?"

"Oh no," she shook her head. "The goblins aren't fond of divine spellcasters, even if we volvas possess sorcery as well. We're not allowed inside their walls, in fact." Ywan frowned, but she showed no sign of offense herself, so he settled for looking back at the smoking tower. "I think we should contact the shieldmaidens and have them station a few warriors outside the tower, just in case."

"Already did," said a familiar, female voice behind them. They spun around to face a short, blonde woman in red robes, holding in a gloved hand a gnarled, flecked staff. Around the top a braided, black string was tied, with feathers of raven and eagle and part of a badger's spine dangling at the end. She was hooded, but her long hair, staff and travelling companions made it very clear to them who she was. Frigga, the youngest of the founders, could always be found travelling around the North with a full adventuring party. While not as powerful in predictions as Saga, she could foresee future events with disturbing accuracy mainly thanks to how well she knew the region and the people in power. As a result, she made a point of actively partaking in such events. Skadi didn't quite understand this side of her sister, but accepted the difference all the same.

Her current travelling companions were only two in number, both elves, one a ranger and the other a priestess of Corellon Larethian, but they were quite capable. Skadi offered them both curt nods before focusing on her volva sister. Frigga pulled back her hood. "You're late," the genasi observed.

"Actually, I'm early," Frigga shot back with a smile, "but I'm late in making my presence known to you."

Skadi frowned. "It's unnerving how good you've become at stealth. I didn't hear you at all."

Frigga's smile widened. "I travel with elves. It's mandatory." The priestess scoffed while the ranger merely smiled. Skadi let out a small laugh.

"Have you come to stay this time?" The genasi asked. She had several volva sisters around, her own quests and daily missions, as well as friends and family. However, there was a bond between the founders of the volva order that ran both deeper and stronger, and if they spent too much time apart, a deep longing for each other's company gripped their hearts.

Frigga nodded. "Provided I don't offend someone again. Besides, I wouldn't want to miss out on the harvest festival."

Skadi frowned. "That's two months away."

"Exactly," her fellow volva beamed, "I need some time if I am to be forgiven for whatever transgression I will make."

A sigh escaped Skadi's lips. "The only one to take offense to your presence would be Aslaug, and that's just because she's got a stick up her ass over a statement you made five years ago."

"And I was right, too," Frigga added, still smiling, "in fact, I still am. She continues to prove this on a daily basis."

"Oh?" The elven priestess cut in, a smirk on her face. "Is this volva gossip we're being privy to? Should I prepare my arsenal of snarky comebacks?"

"You prepare it?" Frigga blinked in surprise. The ranger laughed and the priestess merely flashed her an enigmatic smile.

"All the same, we should report back," Skadi suggested, to which Frigga voiced her agreement. The elves exchanged amused smiles as they moved to follow. Behind them all, Ywan just shook his head.


	4. Chapter 4: Separation

**Chapter 4: Separation**

* * *

Oblivious to the greater schemes of the world, the band of travellers found Silvita to be the perfect host. They were fed the most delicious vegetables and fruits, accompanied by sweet bread and a fruity red wine. Iriaga had never tasted wine before, and so after just two glasses of it she was raving drunk. Silvita solved it by knocking her out and carrying her off to bed.

Despite being given such a warm reception, however, Xeras was eager to leave already the day after. Silvita convinced her they needed to re-supply in Mirabar, but even then the woman's impatience showed. She would snap at shopkeepers when they demanded she haggle and threatened the blacksmith with bodily harm if he didn't finish the new horse shoes and weapon repairs on time. Back in Silvita's house, she would pace back and forth, the creaking sound of the wooden floor having a terrible effect on the hungover sorceress. The pair snapped at each other in full after Iriaga asked her not to pace so much, and it was only through a few choice intimidations that Silvita managed to keep the peace. Xeras remained a ticking emotional bomb and Iriaga was in a foul mood for the rest of their stay. It was a quiet group that headed for Icewind Dale.

Instead of travelling all the way back to the Western Pass, however, the group followed a path through the mountains that Silvita had drawn out for them. Corria, being the best map reader, was given the responsibility of holding on to it, while Loranys was in charge of their equine companion. The horse was a stout and strong one, not like the one that pulled their carriage earlier, and, Silvita assured them, quite good at travelling through mountains. Not only was the mare carrying their food supplies, but Loranys' medicine as well. The genasi had not been idle in her time in Mirabar, spending much time in Silvita's garden picking the herbs to make medicine for Xeras' parents. Thoven served as a cook during the trip and Xeras and Runna as guards. Iriaga did little except walk in silence, wearing a pair of leather boots that Silvita had lent her. They were too big for her and made her stumble more than once, much to the others' annoyance. It didn't improve much when Loranys insisted the sorceress should ride the horse; why should she get special treatment when her legs functioned just fine?

This sentiment made Iriaga's mood even worse, and at the end of the day she found herself a spot far away from the others. It didn't stop the snide remarks, nor one comment in particular about how "maybe Silvita was right after all". The only ones not to comment were Thoven and Loranys, the former because he didn't like pointless intrigue and the latter because she figured Iriaga could use a friend amidst it all. Even so, the sorceress cried herself to sleep that night.

On their second day through the pass, at high noon, did it happen. The only warning they got was when Corria snapped to attention, shouting something about "orcish warhorns" and for everyone to run. A low rumbling began next, and the group looked up, rocks and boulders rolling down towards them at great speed. They obeyed Corria's words immediately, Xeras taking the lead with Runna, Loranys and the horse close behind. Iriaga stumbled because of the boots, however, and fell to the ground. Thoven, who was behind her, yelled for her to get up, because her prone form was in the way. A smaller rock hit her head as she did, however, and she lost consciousness.

"Corria!" Thoven shouted, but the elf was already by the mage's form, grabbing Iriaga and rolling her out of the way. The road went downhill in that direction, making the pair of females roll faster than the elf had accounted for. It was all the halfling could do to keep up with them, and just as Corria got up with Iriaga slung over her shoulder, the rockslide came down on them all. 

* * *

Frigga enjoyed five minutes of joyful interaction with her fellow volvas before Aslaug appeared before her.

"What are _you_ doing here?" The woman demanded as if she was the supreme ruler of their order, her voice dripping with hostility and disgust.

"That's none of your business," Frigga replied with a heavy dose of bluntness and the sweetest smile in the history of mankind.

Aslaug's jaw dropped. "How dare you? Do you know who I am?"

Frigga feigned shock. "You mean you've forgotten and no-one here has offered to cure you? Quite dreadful, I must say. When last I looked, amnesia was a good enough reason to receive magical healing from any fellow volva."

Aslaug's face was beet red at this point, but before she could explode in Frigga's face, Skadi grabbed her fellow founder, said something about being in a hurry, and dragged the disturbingly amused youngster off with her.

"It's disappointing how she's well over thirty years my senior, yet still can't beat me in an argument," Frigga mused as they neared Saga's home.

"Wasn't much of an argument," Skadi shot back dryly before knocking on the door. Some shuffling could be heard on the other side, and of Saga yelling at her grandchildren to get out of the way.

"I know!" Frigga said with a pout. "I was so hoping for a good one."

Skadi sent her a look as if to say she was mad, but then the door opened and their attention was drawn to a wrinkly, old woman with blue eyes and hair that was still a strong yellow, as if the colour stubbornly refused to let go. Despite her advanced years, Saga stood tall and straight, even with the little creatures she referred to as "monsters", and sometimes as her grandchildren, tangled around her legs or dangling from her arms. Frigga got exhausted from the mere sight of her, quietly reminding herself of why she didn't want children.

"What are you doing here?" Her eyes went to Frigga immediately, alarm written across her face. "You must set out at once. Our seidr ritual ended only an hour ago, and in one more, our only hope to be saved will be gone." She was dead serious, her tone matching it perfectly, and Frigga knew better than to question the Oracle.

"Where?" she asked. "Who?"

"Where the snake slithers past the birds, unseen, and the great wyrm can find his rest," Saga replied, "the princess of fire and her friends. Find them." Nodding and releasing herself from Skadi's grip, Frigga spun around and ran back to the elves. A traveller like Frigga knew the Spine of the World Mountains as well as the back of her hand, and so to her a cryptic message was just as good as a carefully plotted map. From Mirabar to Icewind Dale there was a secret pass that was well guarded from enemy eyes, but it also connected to what was long suspected to be a dragon's lair. Frigga knew of this place, even though she'd never been there. As she approached the elves, they shot her some odd looks, but the urgency in her eyes and the "explain later" that slipped past her lips told them all they needed to know. Frigga was ever a spontaneous person, and life was never predictable around her. 

* * *

When Iriaga awoke, it was to dust, a gigantic headache and someone dragging her by her arms. She heard coughing, only to realise she was the one who coughed, and then fresh air entered her lungs. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw Corria and Thoven towering above her. They were covered in dust from top to toe, but otherwise appeared to be fine. The memories came back to her, and the sight of Loranys' retreating back filled her mind. Loranys. Iriaga tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness overcame her and she fell back to the ground, where Corria conveniently dumped her.

"You're not ready to sit up yet," The elf informed her, and after a few minutes of rummaging sounds, Iriaga felt something cold and wet get smeared out on her forehead. It stung, which in turn made her grimace, but she put up with it. The cooling sensation was a bit overwhelming at first, but then it subsided along with the pain. She blinked, noticed the satisfied look on the elf's face, and sat up.

"Loranys," she muttered, and the elf's expression turned into one of distress.

"On the other side," Corria said and pointed to the large pile of rocks ahead of them, "though whether or not they're alive we don't know."

Iriaga's eyes grew wide and blatant fear overcame her. She tried to get up and walk over to the pile, but Corria held her back.

"You'll choke on the dust," Thoven added, and Iriaga paused. "We need to get out of here. Report back to Silvita and tell her what happened." The halfling's tone held a great deal of urgency. Iriaga didn't move.

"Come on, we have to go," Corria said, pulling gently at the sorceress' hand, but she didn't budge.

Thoven turned around, fully determined to go even as Iriaga didn't, only to freeze in his tracks. Before him stood two fully armed orc warriors. He managed to shout Corria's name as the first warrior advanced on him, his reflexes saving him from the initial blow.

Corria had her bow out in the blink of an eye, firing off an arrow at the orc attacking Thoven. The other orc intercepted, the arrow deflected by his shield. This one advanced on the elf, forcing her to draw her sword and fight in melee, where she was at a disadvantage.

Oblivious to what took place behind her, Iriaga was too caught up in the possibility of Loranys being dead to pay much attention to anything else. A strong gust of wind struck her and sent everyone crashing into the ground, clearing up much of the dust in the process. Hovering in the air above them was a plain, unassuming female human dressed in purple mage robes. She regarded Iriaga with complete indifference, like that of a butcher about to kill a sheep. Her gaze never ventured near the other two.

"I see," she said coldly, "so you are the one my master wants out of the way." Her expression turned to that of clear disapproval. "I fail to see what's so terribly special about you. You're barely past the level of an apprentice, and you fancy yourself an adventurer?" The enemy mage raised a hand, Iriaga sensing magical energy gathering up around it. "Don't get cocky just because you know how to start a bonfire with non-mundane means." The energy coalesced into a small, orange ball of fire. Iriaga's eyes grew wide. She didn't need to be an archmage to know what that spell would do. Turning over and getting up on her feet, she saw Thoven and Corria trapped by the orc warriors, blades held against their throats. A cruel laugh escaped the wizard's lips. "Try to run and these two will die."

Iriaga wasn't one to flaunt her heritage. In her time spent among humans, she realised that her non-human half caused more trouble than it helped. Thus, she was happy to let people think she was a half-elf. As she looked at Corria, she remembered the last few days of bickering and pointless intrigue, but she remembered also how the elf had saved her life. Thoven she got along with from day one, and while she wasn't as close to them as she was to Loranys, the druid was either trapped on the other side of the rocks or dead, and she knew she couldn't survive on her own. A tingling sensation spread across her skin as she felt her mysterious fey powers course through her, a connection to the Weave that no half-elf could match. She fixed the orc warriors with her gaze, pleased to see they were looking right back, and felt the power manifest in her eyes. The orcs got stunned, their weapons dropped out of their hands and her companions were free once more.

The trio didn't waste time, immediately making a run for it past the stunned monsters. With the close proximity of the orcs, they felt confident enough that the mage wouldn't unleash her fireball spell. Once more, however, Iriaga's borrowed boots proved to be her bane. She fell to the ground, the mage moving closer and aiming her spell. Apparently, she cared nothing for the orcs that served her, either.

Corria fired an arrow at the enemy and Thoven flung a sling bullet at her, but they were both deflected by a magical shield. With cold indifference, the spellcaster fired her spell, the ball of fire moving closer to the sorceress struggling to get back up on her feet. The elf and halfling ran as far away from it as they could get, as there was no time to save Iriaga. For a moment there was complete silence, and then a strong flash of light. A cry sounded, but not from Iriaga. As the light dissipated, a red-robed, young woman with a flecked, gnarled staff stood between the prone sorceress and the flying wizard. There was no fire anywhere, Iriaga was completely unharmed and their enemy looked suitably miffed. Two elves stood on either side of the mountain pass, a blonde in elven chainmail and a tabbard with the holy symbol of Corellon Larethian on it, and another, a dark-haired archer dressed in fine leather. Both had their bows trained on the enemy.

"Who dares intercept my spell?" The mage demanded. "Who would be so suicidal as to interrupt my mission?"

"Who are you to cause a rockslide in the only direct passage between Mirabar and Icewind Dale and upset the natural balance that has existed for centuries?" The newcomer's voice was as harsh as a bitter winter wind personally blessed by the Frostmaiden. "Mielikki doesn't look favourably upon such reckless behaviour, and neither do I!"

Opening her mouth to fire back a retort, the words became instead a yelp as the mage suddenly fell to the ground, her spell either ended or countered. Corria looked up to see a smug look on the blonde elf's face as she fixed her bow on the mage once more. While few elves held a love for the golds, Corria knew to appreciate kin when she saw them. The other one had hair as dark as night, however, but with pale skin, so she guessed it was a moon elf. Her arrow was trained on the now prone mage. Corria couldn't be sure, but it almost sounded as if the moon elf muttered something about the red-robed woman being just as reckless herself.

"But Frigga," the blonde elf spoke up, "she said 'mission'. Which means there's more than one player involved."

"Indeed," said the red-robed woman, signifying herself to be the one named "Frigga", and looked to their adversary, "and that means you'll be answering some questions."

The mage sneered. "You've got a lot to learn if you think that's enough to get answers out of the likes of me." She raised her hand, holding an orb glowing with white energy.

"That orb holds great destructive power," the gold shouted, but Frigga was already on the move, running towards Iriaga who was back on her feet. She grabbed her wrist and ran on to Corria and Thoven; next to them the two elves stood all of a sudden, and grabbed them both. There was a flash of light as the orb was activated, and then nothing. 

* * *

Carolina Buttercup, pleased with her last-minute deception, dusted herself off and mentally slew her orc slaves, seeing as their usefulness was spent. She beheld her handiwork; the mountain pass was sealed off, thereby preventing reinforcements from reaching the dale, and the group that her employer worried so much about was now separated. Brie would make short work of any survivors on the other side, but it bothered her that she'd been interrupted by that woman and the two elves. Clearly there were some players involved in this scheme that not even her boss was aware of. She weighed the decision of informing him against dealing with them herself, and in the end settled for the former. This woman was clearly powerful, with powerful allies, which meant the best course of action was to gather up numbers of her own.

Flying over to the other side, she spotted Brie standing a good distance away from the dust cloud. Deciding to help her a bit, she summoned a wind spell like before, scattering the dust and helping it settle. When it had, however, there was no-one there. No corpses nor living people, just a large pile of rocks.

"No-one got past me," Brie informed her, "so either they're dead or they've been teleported somewhere."

Carolina frowned. She doubted the red-robed woman had approached Brie's group first. If so, the assassin would have told her about it. These three were just some lowly adventure seeds, like children. The warriors were barely above basic skill level and the druid's spells were like that of the most basic acolytes in a temple. Most likely they'd been crushed under the rockslide.

"We'll settle for dead," Carolina concluded, earning a nod from Brie, "and that means we were at least partially successful."

"The princess still lives, then," Brie shot back, equally conclusive. Carolina nodded. "What could have happened to mess up one of your plans?"

"It wasn't the redhead's doing," Carolina informed her, "but someone new. Someone we don't know."

"Obviously," Brie added, "otherwise you wouldn't have been caught unaware."

Carolina shrugged. "Either way, let's report back." Her sister nodded, and after joining hands, the pair were off.


	5. Chapter 5: Through the Dark

**Chapter 5: Through the Dark**

**Disclaimer:** Wulfgar and Berkthgar the Bold belong to R. A. Salvatore, Wizards of the Coast and Hasbro.

* * *

White lashes fluttered open, a familiar sensation running down Loranys' throat and coursing through her body. It was one she hadn't felt in quite some time, and it made her realise just how much she'd missed it. She was suddenly much lighter, as if held aloft by a telekinesis spell, but able to move freely. Loranys felt no discomfort in her current surroundings, quite the contrary. The water surrounding her was so familiar she almost felt like curling up and getting some sleep. Almost.

There was a very distinct sensation radiating off the water, as if it was alive. Of course, to a genasi, their ancestral element was very much a living thing, but there was something about this water that felt... supernatural. She looked out to see the watery stream all around her, but she noticed the movements of the currents behaved oddly compared to her. If she was to compare it with something, it was much like looking through a ship's porthole, as if she was being dragged along rather than just following a very strong current.

It wasn't until she surfaced, held aloft inside the watery globe, that she realised what had happened. She wasn't underwater, but was in fact trapped inside a water elemental. Up on a rocky, underground shore lay Xeras, Runna and the horse, all thoroughly drenched and unconscious. Concern welled up inside the druid, not just for her three companions, but for the others as well, especially Iriaga who had been right behind her. The elemental must have sensed it, as Loranys was suddenly released into the water, where she swam right back up with the grace and skill of a mermaid.

When she re-surfaced she could no longer sense the presence of the extraplanar entity, though it wouldn't surprise her if the portal to its realm was close by. She swam over to her comrades, as comfortable in total darkness as she was under the light of the sun, and climbed onto the shore. Xeras lay off to the side and Runna near one of the horse's legs. Said leg was awkwardly placed, resulting in the horse kicking away at Runna's head. What a good thing the dwarf still wore her helmet!

It took some effort and a few, lesser electricity spells for Loranys to resuscitate the warriors, but she made sure to cast some healing cantrips on them afterwards. They looked a bit disoriented, but once the genasi had made sure they could speak and act normally, she had them sit up. Next she moved on to the horse, but before she could get to work on reviving her, Runna spoke up.

"Is she dead?" She asked with a hungry gleam in her eyes and licked her lips. The druid shot her a horrified look.

"No," Loranys replied before setting to work, missing the disappointed look on Runna's face. Not long after, the horse was revived as well, and the dwarf began looking around. Xeras, on the other hand, stood very still, clutching her head after hitting it against the low ceiling.

"I can't see a thing in here," she complained, "anyone got any torches that I can light?"

"Only in the backpacks," Loranys informed her, "and they're wet." Xeras groaned. Loranys stepped up to her and took her hand. "Come, I'll guide you over to the horse. Stick close to her and I will help you both through this." Xeras obeyed, but with great reluctance, taking one very careful step after another until she could grasp the horse's saddle.

"Don't you know any spells that can help?" The barbarian asked, even as she leaned up against the animal.

"Only in poor illumination," the druid replied, "not complete darkness like here."

"The cave's not fully sealed off, though," Runna informed them, and Loranys turned around to see the dwarf pressing a hand against the stone and studying it intently, "in fact, I should be able to find a way out."

"Good," Loranys said, "for as much as I could learn a great deal about nature below the surface, I do believe we have a time limit to deal with."

Runna nodded. "It should take about half an hour, top. Still best to keep our weapons close. We're never fer knowin' what monsters are down here." Over at the horse, Xeras began to tremble uncontrollably. "Do ye think ye can do something fer her? She can't see in the dark like we can."

Loranys shot the human a concerned look. "My light spell will last only ten minutes, and it might attract more monsters than repel them. I can cast another, but it, too, will go out before we're back on the surface."

Xeras, despite the terror bubbling inside her, shook her head. "Don't worry about me. I-I'll be fine. You're both quite capable a fully armed dwarf and a healer, both able to see in the dark whereas I cannot. I-it's better company than most."

A hand came to rest on the barbarian's arm. Loranys didn't smile, as she knew Xeras wouldn't see it, but instead gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "We will bring you to your parents."

"Aye, on me word," Runna added, "and that's not something a dwarf gives lightly. Ye'll be hard pressed to find an ally more stubborn than that."

A small laugh escaped Xeras' lips and a smile spread across her face. Runna, pleased, took the lead, while Loranys grabbed the horse's reins and pulled. Xeras stumbled a bit at first, but soon found a pace that agreed with her. The three women took quiet steps through the darkness, but the horse's hooves still clicked loudly against the stone. That sound carried through the corridor and woke up a colony of bats. Screeching loudly in indignation over the intrusion, they startled both horse and barbarian with the sound alone, quickly forming a swarm to flee the cave.

Neither the mare nor Xeras were particularly brave, and in a place where they were at a clear disadvantage, even less so. As the bats descended upon them, the horse tore herself free of Loranys' grip and ran for it, knocking Runna aside as she did, with Xeras close behind, covering her head and yelling for Tempus to save her. Runna shook her head and grunted, while Loranys did her best to empathically relay to the bats that they meant no harm and were merely passing through, that they posed no threat to them. The dwarf held no such notions, however, and happily used her axe to cut into one bat after the other and her shield to bash others against the rock wall. This proved counter-effective to Loranys' efforts, so in the end, all they could do was run after Xeras and the horse.

Finding their lost companions was quite easy, as the underground tunnel went in only one direction. They followed the hoof noise for many long minutes, but both beast and woman were fast, despite being surrounded by complete darkness. Somehow they'd managed to find their way, not only through narrow tunnels, but even to a door lit up by torches hanging on the wall. Runna frowned upon seeing it open, the horse pawing at the ground, but staying where she was, no doubt due to the limited light source.

The warrior and druid stepped inside, Loranys able to keep the horse calm while Runna followed Xeras' tracks a short way to a prison cell illuminated by more torches. Xeras was busy arguing with the lock, the guard dead in a pool of his own blood. The dwarf felt a mix of concern and curiosity and walked up to see who was on the other side of the cell door. An older, more dark-haired version of Xeras met her gaze, although she was both weaker and far less physically imposing. The defeated look in her eyes made Runna's heart break. This was the sister of Silvita, her mother's friend? Beyond the basic physical similarities, it was a far stretch for the dwarf to believe. The high-spirited warrior with a spark in her eye was nothing like this broken shell. Yet even so, Xeras kept beating away at the lock with the pommel of her sword, her face scrunched up in anger, frustration radiating off of her and tears running down her cheeks.

"What happened here?" Runna finally asked.

The depressing version of Xeras replied. "I was taken here by Leif. I'm his prisoner."

Runna looked down to see the woman's wrists were badly bruised. "That his handiwork?"

The woman nodded. "No-one can speak up against him without suffering terrible pain." Xeras' beatings became more frantic. "It's no use, daughter. That one is sealed off magically. Only a magical key can open it." The barbarian didn't listen, fully determined to break the lock anyway. "The entire cell is sealed off magically so I can't be freed save with the key or very powerful magic." She looked back at the dwarf. "I don't suppose you have either?"

Runna shook her head. "We had a sorceress with us, but we lost her. The druid's not powerful enough, either."

The woman sighed. "Then I'm stuck here." Xeras' beatings finally died down and the woman slumped against the wall. "Are you friends of Xeras?"

"We're travelling together," Runna replied, "though we're fairly new to each other. We're on our way to save ye and yer husband, though, and the druid's brought medicine for ye both."

A smile came to the woman's lips. "That's very kind of you, thank you. However, there is no saving me, and if I get better, Leif will suspect something. I must speak with my daughter for a while, though, if you would be inclined to give us some privacy?"

It was an easy enough thing to respect, and the dwarf left the two in peace. Xeras sat down in front of her mother.

"Is Leolamin safe?" The woman asked. Xeras nodded. "Is he with my sister?" The warrior nodded again. "Good, make sure he stays there."

A frown came to the barbarian's face. "Mother, what is going on? Silvita, too, pointed out the importance of keeping him safe, but she wouldn't tell me why. She said you should be the one to tell me."

The imprisoned woman's face took on a sad look. "It's a long tale."

"When is the guard change?" Xeras asked.

"In an hour," the woman replied, "roughly."

"Then we've got time." Crossing her arms, she gave her mother a nod to indicate she should start talking.

"After the fall of ancient Netheril, the descendants of the survivors divided into several tribes," she began, "and these people became the first Reghed barbarians. Some mixed with the ancestors of the Illuskans, while others kept to a more puristic approach, becoming what is known today as the Uthgardt barbarians. Among the Reghed were powerful, female spellcasters called the volvas. Little is known about them, but what lore there is tells us they were a force to be reckoned with in the tribes, both in terms of personal power and authority." Xeras nodded. Her mother went on. "The volvas combined sorcery with the divine favour of a chosen goddess. Usually, this was Chauntea, Auril, Mielikki or even Mystra. The tribes had a keen interest in keeping the favour of several of these goddesses and appeasing the rest, seeing as they had such a great impact on their everyday lives.

"I'm sure you can see why," she went on, "with Chauntea being the earthmother, providing life and nourishment for the wandering tribes, Auril commanding the frost and winter snowstorms, Mielikki guiding hunters and Mystra being the autority of all things magical. This made the volvas the religious authorities in the tribes as well, and while they had few rules, if one was to abuse her power, the other volvas would punish her for it. They very much kept to their own counsel and had their own judges and executioners. Only a few male deities were worshipped, namely Talos and Tempus, but this was by the male side of the tribe and had little influence.

"I don't know all the details, but one day a volva named Dagrún betrayed both her tribe and her sisters," continued the woman, "and drunk with power, she sought to destroy them all. Some said she had gone mad and sold her soul to a dark power, others that she'd always been mentally unhinged and that it was the power of magic that corrupted her. Either way, a battle broke out between her and the remaining tribes, led by the volvas. The fighting was fierce, and despite the magical power of the sisterhood and the might of the warriors, they couldn't defeat her. Dagrún was said to possess a magic foreign and alien to her sisters, but one volva, devoted to Selûne, was granted divine insight into it and managed to break through her defences. The warriors rushed forth to slay her, so in a last, desperate attempt, she summoned forth a powerful fiend whose infernal magic brought back the slain barbarians as undead, to fight their own kind.

"The ensuing battle was terrible and many powerful volvas and warriors alike died," she finished, "but the Selûnite volva managed to make Dagrún disappear, and with her, the fiend. Peace was restored, the tribes united in order to survive, and slowly the volvas began to rebuild their order. Their influence and authority had been severely shaken, however, and re-earning the trust of the tribe was hard. When Uthgar came and declared their practices unholy, it wasn't hard for him to gain supporters."

"What does this have to do with Leolamin?" Xeras demanded.

Concern came to her mother's face. "We're the direct descendants of Dagrún. Every woman born into that bloodline possessing wisdom and knowledge and a weak body is still tied to the fiend and can summon him. Silvita isn't, due to her strong body, and when you were born with the same abilities as her, we believed the curse of our bloodline to have ended." Concern mixed with sadness. "However, Leolamin was born with Dagrún's traits, much more so than anyone before him. It would not be an exaggeration to say he's practically the spitting image of her, in personality, attitude, disposition, intellect and cunning. While the specifics are clear, it wouldn't be the first time in the Realms that an exception occurred. We don't _know_ if he's tied to the fiend, but we strongly suspect it."

Xeras' heart sank. "You mean he can be used to summon the fiend? Is that what Leif is planning? How come he knows when you never told me?"

"It's been passed on as carefully guarded lore from one chieftain to the next," the older woman explained, "and Leif was the next in line after his father. As for you, we didn't think it necessary to tell you because we thought the curse had ended. It's only the firstborn that stands in danger of inheriting this curse."

Anger came to Xeras' face. "And now you're here, exactly because you let your guard down! Why didn't you come with us when we first left? Now Leif can use you to summon a powerful fiend any time! That makes all the difference against the Ten-Towns! He poses a legitimate threat thanks to you!"

A sad smile came to her mother's face. "I know, sweetie. I'm sorry."

Much of Xeras' gusto disappeared, but she was still upset. She got up and began pacing back and forth. "How is the fiend summoned?"

"It's a fairly intricate ritual which requires me calling upon him," her mother explained, "however, it is not as dire as you think. Just as I can call him, I can also banish him."

Xeras paused and gave her a hopeful look, but then the sound of footsteps reached them and she had to run. Loranys was on the forefront, summoning a spell that would cover their tracks before they all ran off, closing the door behind them so their enemies wouldn't suspect an intrusion. Xeras' mother withdrew into the deepest and darkest corner of her cell, where she pretended to be asleep.

Predictably enough, the shapeshifting wizardess arrived, looking thoroughly alarmed by the sight of the dead man and the lack of footprints. Her eyes travelled over to the prisoner's form, piercing the darkness with disturbing accuracy. "You're sleeping at a time like this?"

The Reghed woman cracked an eye open and shot the mage a bored look. "These things happen all the time in my tribe. Always one or two warriors who wish to get rid of a rival."

"With no footprints?" The mage's eyes narrowed.

"The footprints are right there," the prisoner said and pointed to a trail that went in the opposite direction of where Xeras had come from, down a corridor that lead to the guard room, and conveniently connected to the dead man's body. She made sure to conjure up a mental image of the warriors of her tribe, successfully silencing her mind about her daughter and travelling companions, as she knew the shapeshifter could also read minds. When the angry look came to Carolina's face and she yelled "those fools!" before storming off, a smile crept onto her face. Her bluff had been successful, and she'd bought Xeras some time. Now it was up to her daughter to take care of the rest. 

* * *

The bright sun in a blue sky greeted the quartet as they exited the underground caverns, relieved to be out in the open and panting from their exertion. It took a while for the dwarf and genasi to adjust from their darkvision to that of normal eyesight, but when they did, they beheld the open tundra that was Icewind Dale. The sight took their breath away; green grass as far as the eye could see, with spots of moss and rivers running through them. A flock of reindeer grazed not too far away and smoke rose from a campsite near it.

"That's my tribe," Xeras said breathlessly before starting on the trek down the mountain. It wasn't as far as they'd first thought, and the sturdy horse kept up nicely. As they neared the camp, however, the barbarian froze in her tracks, her eyes travelling across the camp members. "I don't recognise all of them, though." She turned around to face the other two. "Loranys, I need you to look after the horse. Runna, come with me."

The dwarf gave an indignated noise, clearly not liking how bossy Xeras was all of a sudden, but followed the woman anyway. They stepped over to a particularly large tent, the voices of men and women clearly audible even from outside. The pair didn't bother to excuse or announce themselves and boldly stepped inside. All eyes went to them, and among them, Xeras could spot her father. Beside him, however, and in the chieftain's seat, wasn't Leif, as she'd expected. The man in that seat was taller, infinitely more handsome and physically imposing, and in possession of surprisingly kind eyes. While every bit a Reghed tribesman, he stood out in a way that she didn't quite understand.

"Ah, Xeras," her father called out to her, "welcome back! Come, take your seat next to me!" His eyes travelled to the much shorter Runna. "Your friend, too. Come, come!" He seemed surprisingly optimistic and cheerful, despite the fact that his son-in-law was dead, his daughter and grandson had run off and his wife had been taken away. Sending him an odd look, she obeyed all the same, the dwarf close behind. He did cough, however, and was still terribly pale. "Xeras, my daughter, meet the famed hero of our people, who united us against Akar Kessel and showed us a more peaceful way of living with the people of Ten-Towns."

Xeras blinked. She'd been around during that war, naturally, but hadn't participated in it. Her grandfather had, however, and fell to the monstrous horde along with many other, brave warriors. Brave, but ultimately foolish, Xeras thought, despite the overwhelming threat that the wizard had posed. She looked at the stranger, and while remembering his deeds, she didn't remember his name.

"I don't know how much I can do this time," the man said dejectedly, looking surprisingly humble for a man of the Reghed tribes, "especially since I've been away for so long. I heard of the troubles here, however, and brought as many of my warriors as I could."

"Indeed, and far away you've been," said another male voice, one that Xeras recognised as belonging to Berkthgar the Bold, current leader of the Elks, "for a long time. We have spoken to you of the old conflicts with Ten-Towns resurfacing, yet you preach to us of peace. Have you forgotten our ways and the ways of Tempus completely?"

Xeras blinked and gave the stranger a surprised look. That had to be the first tribesman she'd ever met who displayed such values.

"I value friendship and the living, it is true," he confessed, "and I agree I have been away for too long. However, I feel I had to do something before I go into exile."

"Exile?" Xeras interrupted, too surprised to stop herself.

Her father cleared his throat. "Wulfgar will go to the Frozenfar and stay there until he's re-learned our ways."

"This is true," the mountain of a man said, "and so I'm afraid I'm of little help to you all."

"But what of Leif?" One barbarian called out. "Our ways are that of settling conflicts with fists or steel, yes, but the insults are minor and hardly worth going to war over, even by our standards."

"No chieftain of any tribe will listen to Wulfgar as he is now," Berkthgar replied on the man's behalf, "and so you have no greater authority here than Leif. However, know that we of the Elk tribe will stay with you and keep watch, even stop him through brute force if he goes too far. On this you have our word."

The dissent quieted down, but Xeras was too occupied with the fact that Wulfgar was sent into exile. Her eyes inadvertently went to her dwarven companion, wondering if she, too, would face such a sentence if she was to travel too far away from her tribe for too long. Wulfgar was the adopted son of a dwarf king, after all, and had travelled with a drow, to boot.

"But your daughter has brought a guest, Odgar," Wulfgar pointed out, making all eyes turn to Runna. The dwarf blinked, taken aback by the sudden attention. "Pray tell, good dwarf, what brings you to this tribe?"

Those words brought Xeras right back to recent events and while she desperately wanted to tell everyone about Leif's sinister plans, she knew her tribe wouldn't believe her. Not to mention that with her mother in Leif's custody, her hands were pretty much tied.

"I'm looking fer me shoe," Runna replied, "but that not be any business of yers, unless ye've seen it. The druid outside, however, is lookin' ta heal yer people. She's made medicine for the whole lot of ye out of the kindness of her heart."

There was only a moment's hesitation as Runna's words sank in. While in truth, the medicine was for Xeras' parents, Loranys had brought along some herbs to make more, should there be a need. The tribesmen regarded each other, and then they regarded the dwarf, as if to make sure she was being serious. Runna's gaze remained adamant, however, and when a young member of the tribe poked his head in and told them a blue-skinned elf had medicine for them, the entire tent exploded into action.


End file.
